Sunburn update

A nerve-racking week-plus without riding made me determined to build two solid rides into my "weekend" (Sunday and Monday, my two days off from work).

I did 30 out-and-back miles Sunday morning, starting on the Clive Greenbelt trail and turning around at the SW Fifth Street pedestrian bridge. All conditions — temperature, wind, elevation, restedness — were optimal; until one final uphill struggle, I was averaging 15 mph.

A chunk of this ride followed the Hy-Vee Half Marathon route, but I am happy to report that I was actually in a state of mind to appreciate the trails rather than wonder angrily why I was even doing this.

Sunburn acquired: a set of parentheses on my shoulder blades, facing like this ) ( . It's the spot where a racerback tank top exposes skin, but where straining sunscreen-covered hands can only swipe awkwardly.

On Monday afternoon, I squeezed in 40 miles, taking the Greenbelt trail to the Raccoon River Valley one. I absolutely loved how quiet, new and rural the stretch from the Waukee parking lot to Minburn was; I was less enchanted with the wind that day.

Still, because it was an out-and-back, what the wind took from me at points, it also gave back. Legs that were tired from the previous day's effort and the current day's 20 mph winds managed to average a 14 mph pace.

Sunburn acquired: several irregular splotches on my legs. This one is deeper than the parentheses, probably because it was on skin that rarely receives direct sunlight ... let alone for three hours. I'll just share photos, for your amusement/commiseration.

I have shorts on, though you can't see them. What you CAN see, however, is the outline of a Band-Aid around a cut I received Sunday night. Evidently I protected not just the wound itself but also the inch or so of skin surrounding it. 

Evidence of the shorts ... and the sunshine hitting my parallel-to-the-ground thighs directly. 

How did this happen? I wore running shorts instead of the knee-length shorts that keep my skin from rubbing awkwardly against the seat and, apparently, from being roasted in the sun.

I never want to be sunburned, let me make this clear, but I'm taking a very optimistic outlook on these burns. Better to find all the weirdly sensitive spots now so I can slather them in sunblock during RAGBRAI.

The evolution of my RAGBRAI fears

When I made my RAGBRAI announcement, I mentioned how many fears were swirling around my head.

Now that I've been biking for a couple of weeks, I wish I could say I'd put them to rest. However, it turns out that training simply changes the topic of my worries.

First, before I even signed up, there were the logistics questions, namely where I'd be staying and how I'd get back.

The former was put at ease by the friends who have a guaranteed hotel room — and therefore room on the floor — for me; the latter, somewhat eased (though not settled) by the same friends' breezy assurances that whoever's taking them home can take me, too.

Then came the fitness fears. I read the training suggestions on the RAGBRAI website and did the math on how far short I would fall. Hastily, I canceled one of my running days each week — I was still preparing for the half marathon then — and in response, Iowa canceled its springlike weather.

So once the race and my rest week were both over, I hit the bike with a vengeance. One Sunday, I did 52 miles with only water to sustain me; the following day, I logged 30 miles and did more than "just survive"; and a few days later, I went for what I found myself calling "only a 20-miler."

It was then that I realized my legs and seat region will be just fine for four consecutive days of riding. But you know what might not be? My skin.

I attributed my first sunburn to the foolishness of allowing a winter-pale Midwesterner to sit on El Bait Shop's patio for half an hour midride.

The next sunburn I got from biking — not my next sunburn, period, but the next bike-related one — was a bit of a puzzle. Sure, I'd been outside for hours with no sunscreen, but I was tilted forward on an overcast day ... must've been windburn, right?

Then came the "tramp stamp" sunburn, at which point I began panicking about how to ward off blistering during four whole days in the late July sun.

Sure, my skin will have had time to adjust by then, but I'll still need sunscreen ... and I'll still need to reapply throughout the day ... and I'll still need to figure out where to store it in a place where it won't melt.

I might just have to be the equivalent of the kid whose mom makes him/her wear a T-shirt to the pool over his/her swimsuits (yes, that was me) — maybe I'll just wear a burqa.

The Woofin' It 5K told through pictures

Last weekend, I did the Woofin' It 5K charity race to benefit the Clive Jaycees and, much more importantly, Furry Friends Refuge.

A friend/fellow athlete, upon hearing of my race plans amid post-half marathon laziness, said jokingly: "Better get out there and run, otherwise you're gonna be out-of-shape for this race!"

I laughed dismissively. "I'll be fine. It's a race with dogs. It's not serious."

A few days later, on a beautiful Saturday morning, I may have ate those words.

The ultimate costume contest winners: Thing 1 and Thing 2. I've never had such a pleasant prerace wait — so many dogs of so many breeds/mutt mixes, and in so many pieces of clothing!

Most dogs, like this tropically dressed one, were eager to meet and greet their competitors. Many butts were sniffed; many howls and barks were emitted; many humans were jerked in random directions and tangled up by leashes.

When my friend/fellow racer Cory and I approached the shelter director to ask for our dogs, she told us only one was left. This is Sam, a 3-year-old coonhound mix. "Are you real runners?" the director asked us. "Because Sam really likes to run." I was too full of pride at being able to answer yes that I didn't think too hard about what her question meant.

It took all of a mile for me to be grateful that I was sharing Sam with Cory. The first mile was uphill, and Sam's legs were apparently far fresher than mine. Also not helping my performance: how much I kept laughing in between shouts of "Sam, heel!" while keeping a two-handed death grip on his leash.

Sam did a great job. He made the classic rookie mistake of going out too fast, but he took advantage of the water stops and ignored my suggestion that we take a few walk breaks — for his sake, of course, not mine.

This was the toughest 5K I've done in Des Moines — my shoulders and back ached for 24-plus hours afterward — but it was hands-down the most fun 5K I've done, too. Consider me registered (mentally) for the 2014 edition!

Friday facetiousness: Is it all in the name?

Stretching before working out, apparently, is the worst thing in the world, according to every fitness blog I follow.

Stretching afterward is acceptable but supposedly doesn't help all that much (I disagree, and I don't care whether that's a placebo effect).

Yet it occurred to me as I did my post-work yoga routine the night before my race that none of these no-cold-stretching articles mention yoga.

I know they're called "postures" and not "stretches," yet in descriptions, it's acknowledged that the moves will stretch out certain muscles.

I like yoga, so I'm not trying to get it on the fitness experts' naughty lists ... but I don't understand the science behind stretching = bad and yoga = good. What's the difference? Is this a pink slime versus lean finely textured beef situation?

I returned to running and survived

I finally went on my first post-race run, and it exceeded my expectations.

Yes, those expectations were set awfully low: I steeled myself to expect buckets of sweat; burning muscles and possibly skin; wheezing; and anger at how fast my fitness had faded.

Upper 60s and sunshine still felt warm to hot, depending on whether I was near trees or in a breeze, but it sure wasn't the misery of our random 80-degree April day — the sweat situation was still closer to a glowing mist than a raging river.

It took me 1.68 miles to cave to the temptation of walking it off, and I did work in a few more walk breaks during the rest of the 3.5-miler. That was OK, though; these breaks were far different than the frustrated stops I made during the half marathon.

The weirdest part was how slow I felt, not just because I was deliberately not pushing myself, but more so because of all the biking I did Sunday and Monday. I've gotten used to covering more ground in less time, apparently.

Don't get me wrong, I was happy to finish. My phone-carrying shoulder, after its week-and-a-half reprieve, became a little crabby with me, and I was more than ready to gulp down some water and take a shower.

I think running once in a while during RAGBRAI training can and will happen, however. Maybe just once a week, and almost definitely in the cooler evening hours (before any half marathon training begins again and forces me to demand more of myself, i.e., not to dodge all sunshine and all warmth).

Running just for fun, not for a purpose — now that will feel strange.

When a runner becomes a rider

Once upon a time — 2007 and 2008 — the only exercise I got was through biking. (Before that ... well, let's not go there.)

Obviously, that changed. Here I am in May 2013, having spent basically all of my workout energy from fall 2011 through last month running — then suddenly flipping the switch to biking.

Two consecutive days of longer rides does not constitute a complete lifestyle change, but there are definitely some differences in post-ride life from post-run life.

* First of all, I'm hungry right away and not nearly as thirsty. It makes more sense intuitively, though it is less convenient — instead of happily taking time to stretch, change clothes, use the bathroom, pester the cat, etc., I just want to bury my head in the fridge.

* Much more helpful is how not sore and achy I've felt. My legs and back did complain a little bit during rides, yet when the foam roller came out, almost nothing felt knotty.

Let me repeat that: Almost nothing felt knotty. It's the only time so far I've rolled my IT band without grimacing, or wondered how to pile more weight onto the backs of my thighs to really work my quads.

OK, my glutes were still tender, and my calves did have a tight spot or two ... and the inner thigh exercise was finally worth the incredibly awkward and unnatural positioning. Otherwise, I would probably be able to put the foam roller on the high shelf of the closet and forget it was there until fall.

* Sometimes it can be hard to find a comfortable position besides reclining after a run. After a ride, everything except sitting on the bike seat seems perfectly cushy and cozy. Climbing back on the day after a 50-miler, on the other hand ...

* And finally, there are the odd sunburn spots. That's not to say I don't burn, or burn in weird places, while running — I do. (Except when real winter arrives in Iowa.) They're just different than the weird places I've already burnt myself while riding.

Before Monday, back when it was cooler and required more clothing, I'd only burned my face/neck around my helmet and sunglasses. It looked super-hip.

Far more awesome, though, is the "tramp stamp" sunburn I got from a shirt that slid up as I leaned over for, oh, two-plus hours. It goes about two-thirds of the way across my waist and is just about a centimeter high, but wow is that skin pink against the ghostly white of the rest of me.

Distant runners-up to the tramp stamp are the two splotches on the insides of my wrists, right where I rotate my arms about 45 degrees to hold on to the handlebars. Like a watch tan line, except only an inch wide.

So, if the first two real days of RAGBRAI training are any indication, I shouldn't worry about the eating/drinking while riding, or the demands it'll make on my muscles — only whether I can dip myself in a vat of sunscreen at each and every stop.

The flesh is weak(er) this time

I've mentioned before, here or at Get Running or both, how I get anxious about taking a break from running: Will the sweetness of laziness lure me away from the delayed rewards of running?

And if you haven't already read between the lines of most of my posts, I (like many runners) have more physical strength than mental strength.

Those trends came together last Tuesday night.

If it was mildly unfair of Mother Nature to throw a warm, sunny day at me on race day, it was equally, if not more, inconsiderate to have the two nicest days of the year immediately follow a half marathon.

I wanted to be outside playing, like the rest of Des Moines; last Monday, in a concession to the beautiful weather and the importance of recovery, I took a somewhat stiff but pleasant stroll around my neighborhood.

On Tuesday, I plowed through a Dutch letter at work and Orange Leaf after work. Emboldened by the still-warm air (it was 9 p.m.!) and jazzed up by all that sugar, I threw on the running gear.

Two and a half days after running 13.1 miles, I decided to set several limits: I'd go slow. I'd walk whenever. I'd go no farther than three miles.

Well, as it turns out, my quads let me go about three breathing cycles. Running just wasn't going to happen.

But still, I was beyond thrilled that, for once, "rest" didn't mean "alternately worry that you'll forget liking to run and hope that you will forget." And though it was only for about a minute, during my tight-quadded-stalk from the apartment up to the sidewalk, I was ready to stop whining about how harrrrrrdddddd running is and just do it.

These aren't issues I generally have while biking, so I might not have much of a chance to work through them until August — if I'm going to do the IMT Des Moines Half Marathon, training starts pretty quickly after RAGBRAI ... meaning there will be hot-weather running.

What better time to test and/or prove my mettle than the dog days?